What I'll Do for You
by Treesamphetamine
Summary: He would probably have to see a psychiatrist. The horrible mental pictures that haunted him at night in his sleep while he lay in his silky black boxers that said ‘Malfoy’ on the butt.
1. Default Chapter

"You wouldn't dare," the first voice said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Oh, but I would!" the second voice said, grinning mischievously.   
  
"How childish you are!"  
  
"Me? Childish?"  
  
"Yes, you. You are very childish."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"You want revenge! Don't you know how bad that is?"  
  
"You started it."  
  
"What did I do this time?"  
  
"You told! You PROMISED!"  
  
"I had a good reason."  
  
"There is no such thing when it's a secret between friends, you evil child!"  
  
"Quit referring to yourself in the third person. It gets annoying."  
  
"Why did you tell them?"  
  
"Because you told them about me making out with Bill!"  
  
He looked puzzled. "I never said anything about—WHAT? You made out with Bill?"  
  
She looked down. "You knew," she said.  
  
"I did not."  
  
"Oh, but you did."  
  
"I tell you I did not."  
  
Somewhere in the back round, a small redhead slide out of the common room.  
  
"You had to!"  
  
"Who else did you tell?"  
  
"Harry. That's all."  
  
"Harry, did you tell?"  
  
Harry looked up from his paper. He was reading the Daily Prophet again. He did this more and more. "Did I tell what?"  
  
"Did you tell anyone about Hermione's little you-know-what with Bill?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"There you go, Hermione."  
  
"Ron, this now makes you suspect #1, not to mention the ONLY suspect." She advanced.  
  
Ron held his hand out before him to stop her. "Hermione, what were talking about before?"  
  
"Um....That," she said, gesturing at what was held in his hand.  
  
"Oh yes." He cleared his throat. "I will reveal you, Hermione Elizabeth Granger! So help me God!"  
  
"Ronald Weasley, you tell anyone about that, and I shall have your head on a platter served to your mother!"  
  
"You speak lies!"  
  
"Nay, I do not!"  
  
"Well, haughty lass, I have more on you that could be imagined!"  
  
"Like what?  
  
"Your—" he said this in a hushed breath––"Sleeping clothes!"  
  
She gasped, then stopped. Her astonished look changed to that of a look of triumph. "I have something on you!"  
  
"What is that, O Brainy One?"  
  
"You—" she said this in a hushed voice—"sing Britney Spears in the shower!"  
  
Ron gasped. "Foul wench!"  
  
She cackled. She always did this when she won.   
  
"But, Hermione." His grin turned malicious. "I think we've forgotten about that time when you flashed—"  
  
"RON! Don't you dare!" she shrieked.  
  
"Hey, you guys," he said, calling out to the other Gryffindors. "Guess who flashed—"  
  
Hermione didn't hear the rest. She was too busy running away.  
  
"Ron..." Harry warned.  
  
"She flashed—What, Harry? Must you ruin my fun?"  
  
"Ron, sit down and think about what you just did. And while you're at it, give me Hermione's Wonder Bra. She'll be looking for it when she gets back," Harry said calmly.  
  
"Yeah, Harry, we all know YOU want to be the one who holds it." Ron nudged Harry with his elbow.  
  
Harry shoved Ron back. "Ha ha," he said sarcastically. 


	2. Malfoy

Hermione could barely keep the tears from falling from her plain brown eyes. Ron thought he knew everything. He probably thought that she flashed him on purpose. She didn't mean to. It was an accident. Halter tops are very unreliable, you know.  
  
  
  
But it wasn't just that he had mentioned it to Harry that bothered her the most. It was that he thought he knew her so well. It aggravated her. It drove her crazy. Insane. Etc.  
  
  
  
As she rounded the corner, she collided with someone. A platinum blonde figure wearing black. Malfoy.  
  
  
  
"Hey, watch it...." he snarled but trailed off once he saw who it was. His pale cheeks tinted pink as a blush came to his face. He rushed off.  
  
  
  
Hermione heaved a sigh. It wasn't her fault. Honest. She was definitely going to have to write a letter to the manufacturer.  
  
  
  
She pushed her hair back out of her eyes.   
  
  
  
Her vision began to blur.   
  
  
  
Her eyes began to water.  
  
  
  
She felt dizzy.  
  
  
  
Her stomach began to contract.  
  
  
  
She was going to throw up, she knew.  
  
  
  
If she was conscious long enough to do so.  
  
  
  
Thud.  
  
***  
  
Draco heard the thud coming from behind him. He debated whether to turn around. It was her fault that he was now scarred for life. He would probably have to see a psychiatrist. The horrible mental pictures that haunted him at night in his sleep while he lay in his silky black boxers that said 'Malfoy' on the butt.  
  
  
  
His good side, aka Henry, popped out on his left shoulder.  
  
  
  
"Hello," Draco said casually.  
  
  
  
"Help her!" piped Henry.  
  
  
  
"Why?" Draco asked stubbornly.  
  
  
  
"Because," Henry said, his high pitched voice hurting Draco's ears, "it is the right thing to do!"  
  
  
  
His bad side, aka Thaddeus, had other plans.  
  
  
  
"Don't help that Mudblood! She flashed you! Remember?" Thaddeus said. Being the evil one, he poked Henry in the ass with his pitchfork.  
  
  
  
"Ouchies!" piped Henry.  
  
  
  
Thaddeus laughed demonically while standing on Draco's right shoulder. What happened next was quite unusual, even for Draco. Henry grabbed the little arrows out of his robe and began shooting them at Thaddeus, using his harp as a bow. Thaddeus ran and hid in Draco's pocket. It was another ten minutes until Draco could get them to stop attacking each other and to go home. They did so, reluctantly.  
  
  
  
Draco had made up his mind in that time. He turned around and saw Hermione on the cold floor. She looked like a pile of black robes with a small dog atop it.  
  
  
  
He bent down beside her. Her face was gray and cold. Something was wrong. Her pulse was slow and soft. Almost as though it weren't beating.   
  
  
  
He shook her. She didn't respond.   
  
  
  
Looking in both directions, he picked her up and carried her to the infirmary.  
  
***  
  
Madam Pomfrey knew something was seriously wrong when that young Slytherin boy Malfoy had walked in the infirmary with the Muggleborn Granger girl of Gryffindor. Especially since he was carrying her.  
  
  
  
The boy set her down on a bed and stood back, looking rather uncomfortable.   
  
  
  
Poppy went to examine the girl.   
  
  
  
It was unusual, she concluded, once she had finished. Most unusual. The girl was hardly breathing and her heart was hardly beating. She was so cold, too. To the untrained eye, she seemed almost dead. Poppy, who prided herself in having the knowledge to cure most everything, was stumped. How could the girl still be alive? She was hardly getting enough oxygen.  
  
  
  
Poppy had a motto, though.  
  
  
  
'When in doubt, call Dumbledore.'  
  
  
  
Which, was what she did.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore himself had not seen the likes of this for a very long time. He had always believed that the disease itself had died out with Grindelwald. Obviously not, though.  
  
  
  
Grindelwald had been an evil one when he was alive. He enjoyed torturing Muggleborns. One thing he did was poison them with some rare flower or herb. Dumbledore didn't know which. And, the poison would slowly kill the victim. It was very painful. Or so he supposed. The victims were usually unconscious throughout the duration of the disease and therefore were unable to state otherwise.  
  
  
  
There was only one thing. . . .Check that. Five things that could save the victim. And, if he figured correctly, they were the only five things that Severus didn't have in his warehouse. Typical. That always happens. It was the way of life, Dumbeldore figured.  
  
  
  
Dumbledore turned to Minerva, who had just arrived.  
  
  
  
"Get Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley here straight away." 


End file.
